Here lay in ashes, my kin of long since.
Here they charred as were destined once.
We are but akin for brittle or dense,
The light from The Father is what I lens,
While his heat they fiercely dispense!
I am pressed hard to shine abright,
They burn and ash - all red and white.
As their blackened bodies smolder,
And I remain a chipped ‘n honed boulder.
They dwell in deep, and I in deeper lair.
While the light I utter would surely ensnare,
Their selves perish to give the light aflare.
For its our fate as a Lucent pair,
One bare one unbare!!
We differ not much as virtue and vice,
And whence rendering our father’s prize,
What I can do, they can do twice.
Yet, I would be reckoned a prise,
Whereas in ashes lay my unsung kin – waiting for reprise।
